Luke's First Diplomatic Mission
by jublke
Summary: It's Luke's first time representing the Rebel Alliance in a diplomatic setting and nothing is going right. Han has a sarlacc of a headache and isn't helping matters any. Set between ANH and ESB. AU. A Luke & Han friendship story.
1. Chapter 1

This story is a work of fan-fiction. _Star Wars_ and its related characters were conceived by George Lucas and are now owned by Disney. I own none of this.

My thanks to my son for beta-reading this for me. Any remaining mistakes are mine.

Clearly, Luke and Han grow much closer as friends between the end of _ANH_ and the beginning of _ESB_. This is one story to explain the development of their friendship. Although this is AU, I did try to loosely follow canon and parts of the EU that aided the story. If you see something that would be better explained by canon or the _Star Wars_ EU, please drop me a line. Thanks!

My apologies to Han Solo. I had a massive headache when I wrote this and had to inflict it on someone.

* * *

Han Solo had a sarlacc of a headache. It might not have been so bad if Chewie had been there to spell him at the helm, or if Luke hadn't been hovering nervously just outside of the cockpit. But the kid was anxious about his first diplomatic assignment for the Rebel Alliance and nothing about this mission had gone smoothly so far.

Han sighed. Would it really have been better if Leia was there? Luke might have settled down then, and Han could have winced in peace at the throbbing in his temples. But Leia had taken ill prior to the mission - nothing severe, thankfully, although Han would be loathe to have Leia know that he actually cared enough to check up on her - and she was unable to accompany Luke. Han had agreed to tag along on this assignment - officially as Luke's pilot, but unofficially, Mon Mothma told him, as Luke's bodyguard. It seemed that everyone, friend and foe alike, wanted a piece of the farm boy from Tatooine who had managed to bring down the Death Star.

Luke's voice was hesitant. "You sure you're all right, Han?"

The spacer gritted his teeth. "Fine, kid." He knew what Luke was thinking. And yes, he had spent the night before partying with Chewie and his friends on Kashyyyk, while Luke had stayed aboard the _Falcon_, studying his notes about the fringe group he was supposed to make contact with in the Expansion Region. But he wasn't hungover, as he knew Luke assumed but wouldn't quite confront him with. Chewie had actually kept an eye on Han's alcohol intake, knowing that Han would be flying without him the next day. Another friend to fuss over him. When had he turned so soft? Han rubbed his forehead and sighed.

Inching his way into the cockpit, Luke sat down tentatively in the large co-pilot's chair. "We're about to head to light speed, right?" Without waiting for Han's reply, he added, "Let me double-check the coordinates for you. I know Chewie usually does that."

Surprised, Han found himself torn between pride in Luke for being so bold and annoyance over the young man's brashness. Irritation won out. "Here," he snapped, sending his figures over to the co-pilot's screen. "If you think you can do better than me, maybe you should fly 'er too." He glared at Luke.

The blond swallowed. "I never said that, Han," he replied, as his eyes raked over the lines of numbers and calculations. After a pause, he added, "It all looks good except for line four."

Han squinted at his own screen. "Kest!" he swore. "You're right." He corrected the error and recalculated the figures. "How's that?" He sent the revised data back to Luke.

Luke nodded, his sunny smile now filling the cockpit. "Looks good to me."

"Great, we're outta here."

* * *

The minute that Han had punched the coordinates into the hyperdrive, he deflated in place, one hand covering his eyes.

Luke watched him with a growing sense of concern. It wasn't like Han to make a serious error in piloting. It disturbed Luke to think that Han was hungover enough to impair the mission. That fiasco with the hyperdrive coordinates could have ended in disaster. He thanked the Force for watching over them.

Han didn't look up or move as the ship streaked into hyperspace. Luke gently touched the Corellian's shoulder. "Uh, Han? Maybe you should go get some rest now. I can keep an eye on things here."

The man startled and tried to focus his unsteady gaze on Luke's face. It gave him a vaguely cross-eyed appearance as he nodded. "We'll be in hyperspace for at least two hours, kid." Han looked away, blinked several times, and stood up. "I need to check on something." In a firmer voice, he added, "You should stay here and get ready for your meeting."

As the captain of the _Millennium Falcon _left the cockpit, the uneasy feeling in Luke's stomach grew. _Trust your feelings_, he could almost hear Ben Kenobi whispering. Well, his feelings were telling him that Han was hungover. He was disappointed in Han, but that wasn't the real problem. His sense of unease was keyed in to something else: Han didn't trust him enough to be honest with him.

How impaired was he? If Han wasn't going to tell him the truth about his condition, then Luke would have to confirm his suspicions for himself. He snuck down the hall after the pilot.


	2. Chapter 2

Han stood in the galley, rummaging around for the medpac. Finding the medisensor, he gave a quick wand over his aching head and frowned at the findings. He'd had a pretty good idea of what was wrong, but seeing it on the display only increased his nausea. The timing couldn't have been worse. Two hours of rest wouldn't resolve this problem. He'd need a day or more spiced up with his head packed in iced bacta to be functional again and they simply didn't have the time.

Han had a ship to pilot and a mission to oversee. He could fall apart later. Grabbing a chilled bacta pack and the strongest analgesic in the kit, he hoped it would be enough to get him through the jump out of hyperspace. As he headed toward his quarters, he didn't notice Luke tailing him in the hallway.

* * *

Luke couldn't focus on the notes in front of him. He had crept after Han until the pilot had entered his quarters and palmed the door closed. Once Luke had made his way back to the Dejarik table, he had tried to concentrate on the briefing papers and detailed notes that Leia had so studiously prepared for him. But his mind kept wandering.

If Han was hungover, why did he check himself out with the medisensor? Maybe something else was wrong. Luke closed his eyes and leaned into the Force, reaching out for the Corellian.

A bolt of pain shot through Luke's eye, and he broke his connection with Han abruptly to get away from the torturous sensation. What was that? Luke didn't know much about hangovers, but his brief stint as a jet juicer after the destruction of the Death Star hadn't felt like this. His anxiety cranked up a notch. Why couldn't they have had a blue milk run? This mission was a disaster. But it was still his mission and he had better take control of it.

Sighing, he crept back to the galley and picked up the medisensor. Flicking it on without activating the scanning function, he read the stored results of Han's recent exam.

Shaking his head, he crept back to the lounge and tried to think of the best way to handle the situation. Why hadn't Han said something before they had left? He had obviously been in pain on Kashyyyk and had chosen to ignore it. Luke frowned. If nothing else, he had to clear the air with Han about that. Lying about one's fitness could do more than endanger a mission, it could get them both killed.

As far as salvaging this trip was concerned, nothing could be done while they were in hyperspace. That much was obvious to Luke. But once they emerged, they couldn't head straight to their planned negotiation session either. Whether Han would admit it or not, he needed a day or two of rest. And Luke didn't feel quite comfortable heading into this meeting without Han. Or maybe, he didn't feel comfortable leaving Han alone when the pilot wasn't at his best, Luke wasn't sure. His feelings were a tangled mess - anger at Han for putting him into this position, concern over his friend's health, frustration that Han hadn't been honest with him. Above all, there was the worry that he would fail at his new job as a negotiator and embarrass himself and the Rebellion. Could he delay the meeting? How would that look?

The young man examined his thoughts closely and felt ashamed. Was he really more concerned with how the Rebellion brass perceived him than he was with doing what was right? If he ignored his friend's condition and tried to muddle ahead anyway, he would be acting as recklessly as Han.

Luke set the datapad aside and headed toward the cockpit. Once inside, he took a deep breath, sat down at the controls, and pulled up the operating instructions for the _Millennium Falcon,_ complete with modification notes by Han and Chewie. He had a lot to learn in two hours.


	3. Chapter 3

Han awoke to the sensation that something was desperately wrong. He blinked into the blackness, trying to orient himself. The pain that had driven him into the quiet darkness of his cabin had receded slightly, but with that came a muddled sense of confusion. Weren't they still in hyperspace? Then why was the ship ...

He dashed down the hall, squinting at the bright light. If he wasn't at the controls and Chewie wasn't flying, then who the hell ...

Luke barely looked up from the pilot's seat when Han stormed into the cockpit. "Just what do you think you're doing, junior?" the older man spat.

"Landing the _Falcon_." Luke glanced at Han until there was a spot of turbulence and he had to turn away and wrestle the ship into submission.

Han glowered at the younger man. "No, you're not. Get out of that seat!" He had to fight the urge to punch the kid. Even in his fury, he realized that it was a bad idea to hit someone while they were piloting your ship. No matter how misguided or stupid that person was, Han thought.

"No." Luke's voice was irritatingly calm. "You aren't fit to fly right now, Han. You know it as well as I do. So sit down in Chewie's seat and give me a hand."

Han really wanted to argue and fight the kid tooth and nail. But his head ached and they were on final descent and Luke had a point. Reluctantly, he sat down.

Together, they landed the _Falcon_ at a busy flight center on the edge of a small city. Han looked around once the ship had docked at the hangar. "Where are we?" he asked.

"Calito." At Han's curious expression, the younger man clarified. "This is Capstone, the largest city on the moon."

"Why?"

Luke's anger flared. "You didn't leave me any choice! It's the only place around here with a decent sized medcenter."

Han shook his head and folded his arms. "I don't need a medcenter. I'm fine."

"You are not fine! I read your medisensor results. You need stronger medication than what we have onboard. You're in a lot of pain."

Han's eyes narrowed. "You read my medisensor results?"

"Yes!" Luke exclaimed. "Only because you wouldn't tell me the truth!"

Han looked away. "It's none of your business, kid." He shook his head. "And I ain't heading to that medcenter. Looks like you wasted a trip for nothing."

"You are so stubborn! No wonder Leia gets so frustrated with you! Why can't you just admit that you need help?"

"Don't need that kind of help, kid. It'll only make things worse." Han sighed and headed toward the lounge.

"What're you talking about?" Luke followed, close on his heels.

Han flopped down on the lounge sofa and covered his eyes with his hands. Luke lowered the light level in the room.

"Look, Luke, I know you're just trying to help. But I can't show up at a medcenter with a history of migraines. Word of that gets out and I'm done for. No one wants to fly with a guy who might not be able to land."

Luke sat down next to Han. "So what do you usually do?"

"Take as much painkiller as I can, pack my head in bacta, and sleep." Han shrugged. "I don't get 'em too often. Chewie is always there to back me up when I do." He peeked out from under his hands at Luke with one eye. "Sorry, kid. Didn't mean to ruin your first diplomatic mission."

"It's okay," Luke said. "I rescheduled it once we were out of hyperspace. Said my pilot got sick with the same thing the Princess had and we didn't want to start our negotiations by bringing them an illness."

The pale man lying on the lounge sofa gave him a weak smile. "Good thinkin'."

"So," Luke said, "You've got plenty of time to rest up before we head back. Now, what do you need from the medcenter? I can bring the medisensor in and say you're too sick to come in yourself."

Han shook his head. "They still need a name to stick on the drugs." He looked over at Luke hopefully. "You could get more iced bacta patches, though. And stronger over-the- counter painkillers."

Luke cocked his head thoughtfully. "You've got a permit for the medpac, right?"

Han rolled onto one side to look at Luke. "Yeah, so?"

"So, you're allowed to have a certain amount of emergency medical rations, no questions asked. I'll ask for a refill of your stocks. Just give me the permit number and I can get you painkillers, IVs, you name it."

A lazy smile spread across the Corellian's features. "You really are the brains, huh, kid?"

Luke's return smile quickly faded. "Just promise me you'll let me know the next time you're in trouble. Things could have gone really badly, Han. You're lucky I already knew how to fly."

Han didn't bother to argue that Luke should have alerted him when they exited hyperspace, or that he could have flown his ship one-handed and blindfolded, addled with migraine or not. He just rolled onto his back in resignation and shielded his eyes again. "I know, Luke."


	4. Chapter 4

Luke shook his head as he left the _Falcon_ and headed to where the docking agent had said the medcenter was located. More than anything, he wanted to believe that Han had learned his lesson. But where the Corellian was concerned, Luke could never quite be sure. Han didn't see him as an equal, and that complicated their relationship. He wondered what Han really thought about him landing the _Falcon_. His jaw was still in one piece, which suggested a grudging admiration in there somewhere.

Trying to get a sense of the inhabitants of Calito, Luke leaned out with the Force. He didn't know too much about the moon's history, other than it had once been a part of the Bacrana System Defense Force. Supposedly, the defense force was fragmented at the moment, with the majority of its members leaning in favor of the Rebel Alliance. Luke knew that this group was on Leia's radar of potential allies. But he also recognized that political winds could shift rapidly. Luke pulled his cloak down over his eyes.

* * *

Han Solo tried to relax while Luke was out, but Mon Mothma's cool, clipped words kept coming back to him.

_Luke is a great leader, but he is politically naive, Captain Solo. It is your job to ensure that he arrives back on Hoth unharmed._

If Luke was attacked, or injured, or killed because of me ... Han stumbled to his feet and activated the entry ramp for the _Falcon_. He'd shadow the kid for now. Just to be safe. He could rest later after Luke brought him medicine.

The younger man didn't seem to realize that he was being tailed, which raised Han's concern considerably. Either the kid had that Force-thing going on and he knew that Han wasn't a threat, or he was completely oblivious. Since he hadn't confronted Han and ordered him back to the ship to rest, Han was leaning toward clueless. Not good. Not good at all.

Luke finally entered a nondescript, tan stone building that Han assumed was the medcenter. Well, he could wait. He looked around for a shady place nearby to sit or stand. Finding nothing suitable, he frowned and leaned against the nearest building, wishing for water. It was awfully bright out.

Han stood in the blistering heat for over an hour, squinting against the light and wishing that he had minded his own business and stayed aboard the _Falcon_. His head was now pounding with the rhythm of his heart and he was starting to see spots in his blurred vision. Usually, visual auras preceded the pain of migraine, but since Han was already in blinding pain, he was unclear what his body was trying to tell him now. It was hard to think clearly about anything. Once Han realized that he was gasping for air, it occurred to him that maybe it was time to get out of the heat and find Luke. The kid would be annoyed at him for not staying aboard the ship, but it was better than passing out in the street.

Stepping inside the medcenter, Han stood gratefully gulping cool air when he was accosted by a young human. "Right this way, sir," she said, guiding Han into a triage room.

"Wait!" Han tried to say, but she shoved a thermometer into his mouth before he could finish the word, wrapped a blood pressure cuff on one arm, and waved a medisensor over his body. "I'm not sick!" he attempted to mumble.

Frowning at the results, she removed the thermometer and cuff and tugged him down the hall. "You'll be in room 17." Upon entering the small room - which was really just a small hunk of floor divided by cloth partitions - she indicated the cot.

"Now, wait just a minute," Han argued. "I'm fine. I only came in here because I'm looking for a friend of mine, Luke Skywalker. Have you seen him?"

The girl frowned at Han. "Sir, your heart rate is up, your blood pressure is low, you have symptoms of migraine, and you are suffering from heat exhaustion. You are not fine. At a minimum, you need to be rehydrated." Her brand of pluck and no nonsense tone reminded Han of Leia. He sat down on the cot. Immediately, she rolled up one of his sleeves, sterilized his arm, and inserted an IV line.


	5. Chapter 5

Finally, something had gone according to plan, Luke thought, as he shouldered the pack of medical supplies. It had taken some time to find the right person with whom to speak, but once he had, the transaction had gone smoothly. He was thanking the medcenter staff and handing over a fistful of credits when he thought he heard his name. The argumentative voice sounded distinctly like Han's.

Luke's stomach dropped. He promised to stay aboard the ship, Luke thought irritably. That thought was followed by a more troubling one. What if Han had voluntarily come to the medcenter for treatment? That could only mean his migraine had grown worse.

Discretely checking the small treatment rooms, Luke poked his head into one and found a middle-aged man with dark hair and a mustache with his left leg wrapped in bacta tape. The man gave him a startled glance. "Sorry," Luke said, as he quickly backed away.

He found Han in the next room. The Corellian had a defeated air about him. "Hey, kid," he said.

"Han, what happened?" Luke dropped into the guest chair. "You look terrible."

The older man actually chuckled. "I'm startin' to think there's somethin' to that Force thing of yours. I came in here lookin' for you and the next thing I knew, they were admittin' me. Guess you were right about me needin' to come in." He looked away.

"Are you feeling any better?" Luke asked.

Han shrugged. "Pain's down. They gave me somethin' for my head. It don't hurt so much now but I feel real woozy." He gazed at Luke with glazed eyes. "I felt so hot before, like I was standin' on a sun. Better now." He smiled the vague, plastered smile of those on heavy painkillers.

Luke's eyes took in the IV drip. "Did they tell you what's wrong with you?"

Han held up four fingers. "Heat-something, migraine, and, um ..."

"Elevated heart rate and low blood pressure," said an older female medic, who entered the room carrying a datapad. "Both are symptoms of heat exhaustion." She eyed Luke. "Are you family?"

Luke hesitated only a moment before answering. "He's my brother." Han's eyes widened.

"Good," she said. "In a couple of hours - when he's fully rehydrated - he can be released, but he needs to take it easy for awhile. No flying or driving today. Make sure he stays out of the heat. You need to manage his pain medication until the migraine fully subsides.

Luke swallowed. "I can do that." The medic handed him small vials of Comaren and Symoxin.

"We also need someone to cover his medical expenses." She pointed at Captain Solo and lowered her voice. "John Doe here wasn't too forthcoming about his identity. The physical scan, with his broken nose and chin scar, point to a record on file for a Vyyk Draygo, but he's supposed to be dead. And the retinal scans don't match."

Luke looked at Han, who shrugged. "You will keep his records out of your database," Luke intoned, with the calming voice of the Jedi. "These credits will cover your expenses." He handed her a few tokens.

The medic laughed and patted Luke on the arm. "Honey, that old Jedi mind trick won't work on me." At Luke's affronted look, she added, "But I like you two." She winked at Han as she pocketed the credits and whispered, "Your secret's safe with me, Captain Solo."

After she left the room, Luke buried his head in his hands. "Vyyk Draygo? We're so farkled, Han. What else could go wrong?"

As if in answer to his question, a new head poked into room 17. Luke recognized him as the man from the adjoining room.

"I'm sorry," Luke said. "Were we being too loud?" How much did he overhear?

The man's smile widened to an almost predatory capacity at the sight of Luke Skywalker and Han Solo together in one room. He limped in and hugged Luke. "It is you! Bless the Maker. I thought I was hallucinating again."

Luke frowned while Han gave a vague, stoned grin.

"Allow me to introduce myself," the man said. "My name is Trep Reskan. I'm the leader of -"

"I know who you are," Luke interrupted. "But how do you know us?"

"You're famous, son! Both of you have a bounty on your heads. Or maybe you hadn't realized that yet?" As Luke tensed, the brash man leaned close and whispered, "The Bacrana System Defense Force is ready to join the Rebellion. The fact that they'd send you two so deep into contested space on a fact-finding mission seals it for me."

Luke frowned. His official orders had nothing to do with this man. Whispering back, he questioned, "How did you know about our mission?"

Reskan smiled. "No need to act coy with me, son. I know you came here to find me."

A hesitant grin on his lips, Luke soon nodded his way into a full smile. "Yes," he replied, thanking the Force. "We were sent here." Shaking the man's hand, he added in a louder voice, "We're docked in Hangar Bay 94. Perhaps you'd like to stop by tomorrow evening and celebrate your release from the medcenter?"

"Make it tonight and you've got yourself a deal."


	6. Chapter 6

As Han rested aboard the _Falcon_, Luke read Leia's notes carefully. Although she hadn't anticipated a negotiation with anyone as large or as organized as the Bacrana System Defense Force, the basics of negotiation were the same. What did the defense force want from the Alliance? What could they offer to the Alliance?

Han wandered in from the captain's quarters looking peaked, but somewhat improved since his release from the medcenter. "How goes the studying?" he asked. "You know, her high holiness is going to be frothing at the mouth with jealousy when she finds out you set up this little merger." He gave Luke a lopsided grin.

The younger man didn't rise to the bait. "Were you able to send her a message?" Communications with the secret Rebel base on Hoth required a secure channel, hard to come by in many parts of the galaxy. Han shook his head, an action he clearly regretted as Luke caught the accompanying wince. "You can have more pain medication now, Han."

The older man grunted. "Need to stay alert while you entertain. I'm supposed to keep an eye on you. Moth-head made that very clear."

Luke raised his eyebrows. "Oh, she did, did she?"

Han flushed. "And I wasn't supposed to tell you that. Damn meds."

There was a knock on the _Falcon's_ exterior and both men tensed. "This is it, Luke. Give 'em hell." Han flashed Luke a smile and lowered the entry ramp.

* * *

The Corellian sat in the corner, arms folded, and watched Luke negotiate with Trep Reskan at the Dejarik table in the lounge of the _Millennium Falcon._ Both men were deeply engrossed in their discussion. Han had tried to follow along at first, but the pain in his head, coupled with the fuzziness of his brain from the residual medication, didn't allow for much comprehension. He caught Luke staring at him a few times, and he was alert enough to recognize that it was Han, and not Reskan, who was the source of Luke's consternation. Han was supposed to be taking it easy, resting in a darkened room, sipping bactade, not overseeing a negotiation for the Rebel Alliance. He knew that Luke was torn between his concern for Han and his desire to see the Rebels forge new ground. Adding the Bacrana System Defense Force to their side would be a huge victory, not only for the Rebel Alliance, but for Luke personally. Han gritted his teeth and tried to look like he wasn't in pain.

Suddenly, the man with the mustache clasped Luke on the shoulder and Han went into full alert mode, hand on his blaster. "You've got yourself a deal, son!" Reskan said with a laugh.

Han didn't relax until Luke smiled back and shook the man's hand. Then Han stood up, a bit unsteadily, and headed for the galley. "This calls for a toast," he said, returning with three glasses and a snifter of Corellian brandy. He poured their drinks and handed a glass to each man, ignoring the frosty looks that Luke was sending him.

"To the Alliance!" Han offered, and all three clinked their glasses together. Reskan and Han took a gulp as Luke sipped, still frowning at Han.

"Captain Solo, can I see you in the galley?" Luke asked, his voice tense. Speaking to Reskan, he added, "I'll be just a minute."

Once they were alone in the galley, Luke lit into Han. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Celebrating your victory!" Han hissed in reply. "And I suggest you return to it before that man wonders what in the nine hells of Corellia we're doing back here!"

Luke took Han's glass and dumped its contents into the sink. "You can't mix brandy with the medication you're on, Han!" He handed the empty glass back to the shocked pilot and stormed out of the galley.

Han returned to find Reskan giving him a curious look. "Pain pills," he blurted out, waving the empty glass back and forth. "Forgot I wasn't supposed to drink while I'm on 'em." Internally, Han chastised himself. Just what sort of truth serum is in this medication? he wondered.

Reskan nodded and indicated his bandaged leg. "We're in similar straits tonight, Captain Solo. We shall have to find another time to celebrate." He set his glass on the Dejarik table and reached for his crutch. After shaking both men's hands vigorously, Reskan departed.

* * *

As soon as the entry ramp to the _Falcon_ had clamped shut, Luke pointed at Han. "Go to bed!" he ordered.

"But Leia's not here," Han groused, flushing as he saw the pop of Luke's eyes. Oh, kest, had he said that out loud?

"You're supposed to be resting," Luke replied, having regained his composure. "Come on, I'll help you." He guided the unsteady spacer to his quarters. By the time Han had stretched out on the bed, Luke had returned with two pills, a glass of bactade, and three iced bacta patches. Gratefully, Han took the medication and finished the overly sweet drink. Then he curled into a ball. Luke began to pack the chilled bacta around his forehead and neck until Han sat up abruptly.

"I can do that myself," he said gruffly.

Luke shook his head. "Han, let me do this for you. I know you feel like bantha fodder and I feel partly responsible, making you sit through a three-hour negotiation."

Reluctantly, Han lay back down. "It was important, Luke. You're doing a good thing there." His words were slurred. Again, Han wondered just what drugs he had been given. It was hard to control his tongue.

Luke patted Han's shoulder and repacked the iced bacta patches around the man's head and neck. "Get some rest," he said, as he walked out. As he dimmed the lights, he added, "Call if you need anything."

"Thanks, Luke. You're a good friend." Han had barely mumbled the words before he fell asleep.


	7. Chapter 7

My thanks to EsmeAmelia, 2Old4This2, I love dance, and everyone else who has dropped by to read this story. Here's the last official chapter - but there is an Epilogue coming. :)

* * *

When Luke awoke, the chrono indicated it was morning. The lights, set on an automatic timer, were coming up aboard the _Falcon_. Luke slipped down the hall to Han's quarters and manually turned off the overhead light in the captain's room. Han needed his rest.

Luke padded toward the galley and found a few odds and ends to snack on for breakfast. He found it hard to relax. More than anything, he wanted to return to Hoth as quickly as possible and tell Leia about their good fortune.

But he didn't want to push Han. Luke knew the Corellian's nature. He would try to hide or play off any weakness. Han didn't let anyone in, Luke realized, not even him. He wondered about Chewie and Leia. Did Han talk to them? Clearly, the man had feelings for the Princess. Had they taken their relationship any further than the light flirting that masqueraded as fighting? Were they really sleeping together? Luke shook his head at the idea. Best not to think about that. And just who was this Vyyk Draygo? What sort of secret life did Han have hidden in his past? Did he really know the captain of the _Millennium Falcon_ at all?

As if the man could sense Luke's doubts, Han appeared in the galley, looking disheveled and disoriented.

"Hey, Han," Luke said in greeting. "Or perhaps I should say Vyyk Draygo?" he teased.

Han flinched as though he had been slapped, and Luke instantly regretted his choice of words. "Don't ever call me that." In the stony silence that followed, Han fixed himself a cup of caf and left. Luke followed at a distance. The older man sat quietly at the Dejarik table with his eyes closed, caf in hand.

"How're you feeling?" Luke asked, taking a seat near him on the lounge sofa.

Han opened his eyes to glare at the young Jedi. "I can fly if you want me to. It's not much of a hop from here to Kashyyyk."

"That's not what I asked."

Han sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Whaddya want me to say?"

"How about the truth for a change?"

The spacer nearly choked on his caf. After a moment's recovery, he spoke in a tense, carefully measured voice. "What do you want to know?"

"Who is Vyyk Draygo?" Luke's blue eyes pierced Han's hazel ones. "And why did you have your retinal patterns changed?"

Han took a long sip of caf before replying. "An alias I used a long time ago. Vyyk officially died when I entered the Imperial Navy."

It was Luke's turn to splutter. "You were in the Imperial Navy?"

Han turned a cold gaze on him. "Yes, I was."

"So why did you leave?"

"My superior was torturing a Wookiee pilot. I helped him escape."

Realization dawned for Luke. "That's why Chewie owes you a life debt, isn't it?"

Han nodded. The weariness of his expression drew Luke up short. To make up for his interrogation, Luke offered, "Go ahead, Han, ask me anything."

"Are you done asking me stupid questions?" There was just a hint of amusement in Han's voice, and Luke took that as a good sign. But he had to push his luck, because he had to know the truth.

"Just one more. Do you feel well enough to fly?"

Han looked away and took another slow sip of caf, effectively answering Luke's question. No, he didn't. But Luke still wondered what the Corellian might say.

Han appeared to be weighing his words carefully. "Can I fly right now? Sure. Migraine's almost gone." He paused and looked at the cup of caf in his hands. "But should I fly?" He looked up to meet Luke's eyes and sighed deeply. "No. I need another day to recover or I risk it happening all over again." He shrugged and set the caf aside.

"Do you know what triggers your migraines?"

Han nodded. "Temperature extremes. Sudden air pressure changes."

Luke frowned. No wonder Han hated Hoth. And air pressure changes? Bad news for a pilot.

As if Han could read his mind, his friend clarified. "_Falcon_'s pressurized pretty good so I don't get 'em too often. But if we're in and outta hyperspace, settin' down dirtside one too many times over a couple of days, it can get kinda rough. Sometimes I get warp-lagged." He shrugged again and crossed his arms protectively. "That answer your question?"

Luke squeezed his friend's arm. "Yeah, it does." He tried to catch the Corellian's eye, but the man wouldn't look at him. "Look, Han, I know it was hard for you to talk about this, but I want you to know that I feel closer to you now."

Han ventured a look at Luke. "At least someone feels better." He picked up the cup of caf, drained it, and walked back into the galley.

Luke smiled at his friend's retreating back. Despite Han's embarrassment, Luke knew that they had taken an important step forward in their friendship. He'd give Han some space now, so that the man could recover his dignity.

After locating his datapad in the lounge, Luke began to write up his notes about the negotiation session with Trep Reskan. Since they had to pick up Chewie on their way back to Hoth, that meant two sets of jumps in and out of hyperspace. Not wanting to push Han too hard, Luke realized that it might be several more days before he could check in with Princess Leia and Mon Mothma. He knew how he was going to spend his down time. Unlike the mission, this debriefing report was going to be absolutely perfect.

END


	8. Epilogue - Part 1

I'm not sure if this is so much an epilogue as the start of another story, but I'm placing it here for now. Thanks again to all who have read and commented. Book girl fan, I appreciated your chapter by chapter commentary. :) [Note: second epilogue chapter is posted now.]

* * *

Of all of the things that Luke had anticipated during this meeting, Mon Mothma taking his report at face value was not one of them. Luke had expected questions, and he had prepared his answers ahead of time as best he could. But the stern older woman simply listened as he concluded his oral presentation. She seemed to accept his reliance on the Force as natural, his concern that Captain Solo's mild "cold" might have been the same as Leia's and therefore contagious, their subsequent decision to abort and postpone the original mission, and the duo's visit to a medcenter when they realized that their medical stocks were low aboard the _Falcon_. Mothma, Luke suspected, was so delighted by the unexpected outcome of their encounter with Trep Reskan, the famed and elusive leader of the Bacrana System Defense Force, that she was willing to let the details slide just this once. That the man had chosen to pledge his - and his sizable organization's - loyalty to the Rebel Alliance had brought a rare smile to the older woman's face.

"Thank you, Luke. Your first diplomatic mission went exceedingly well, better than expected in fact, despite some difficult circumstances."

Luke beamed throughout the conclusion of the meeting, his smile lingering even after Mon Mothma had left the room.

Princess Leia Organa, however, remained seated. Luke had the uneasy feeling that she might not be so easily deterred. This should have been her mission too, but she had been unable to attend due to illness. She had remained quiet throughout the debriefing, except for the occasional cough, lulling Luke into a false sense of security. He really wanted to leave now, to get through this meeting without revealing Captain Solo's secret: the pilot suffered from migraines, severe at times, and he did not want the entire base to know. Gaining Han's trust had been difficult for Luke, even when the Corellian had no choice but to admit to the problem. Luke did not want it on record that Han had been ill enough that Luke had piloted the _Falcon_, or that he had been so worried about Han when they had exited hyperspace that he had flown straight to the nearest medcenter.

"So," Leia said, once Mon Mothma was out of earshot, "Why don't we go somewhere private to talk and then you can tell me what really happened?" Her mouth was set in a hard line.

Luke feigned innocence. "There's nothing more to tell. Our meeting with Reskan went well and he and his sizable defense force are ready to join the Rebellion." He threw emphasis on the word "sizable", hoping to distract her.

They were walking down one of Hoth's many icy corridors and the cold seemed to be aggravating Leia's lungs. He stopped as she suffered through a coughing fit.

"Maybe we should head to the mess hall and get you some tea," Luke suggested. Leia nodded.

It was quiet for once in the great room, and they chose to sit in a far corner. After collecting her tea, Leia gave Luke a skeptical look. "I've seen Captain Solo," she said. "He seems fine."

Luke stared at her, uncomprehending. "So?"

"So," Leia said, stirring her tea, "if Han had similar symptoms to mine, he would still be ill. This virus is difficult to shake."

Luke looked away. "Guess I was wrong then. He recovered pretty quickly."

"You weren't wrong, Luke." Leia caught Luke's gaze and held it. "You're lying to protect him. Why did you have to take Han to a medcenter?"

Luke looked away. "I - I didn't." The lie didn't come easily.

"I can think of a number of reasons that a pilot like Han might become incapacitated," she went on. "Perhaps he drank too much with Chewbacca before leaving Kashyyyk. Hyperspace can wreak havoc on an upset stomach."

It was the same assumption that Luke himself had made, but hearing it from Leia infuriated him. Why was she doing this? He glared at her and crossed his arms. "Han wasn't drunk, Leia."

She took a sip of tea. "Drug addiction is another possibility," she said casually, placing her cup on the table. "You did head to a medcenter to refill his medicinal supplies ..."

Luke had heard enough. He stood, furious, arms waving in anger. "You have no idea what you're talking about! I'm not going to sit here and have you talk about Han like that."

Before he could storm out, Leia tugged at his sleeve, a repentant look on her face. "I'm sorry, Luke, but I had to know. If Captain Solo is abusing alcohol or drugs, that could jeopardize anyone on this base who works with him."

Reluctantly, Luke sat back down. "Han isn't on spice, Leia. I don't know why you always assume the worst about him." But as the words left his mouth, Luke realized exactly why. Leia had to assume the worst about Han because she was in love with him.

And clearly, this terrified her. A haunted look crossed her face as she picked up the tea cup and twirled it through her fingers. Assuming that Han was a callous, insensitive, drug-and-alcohol abusing scoundrel was one way to ensure that she never let herself get too close.

Leia's dark eyes met Luke's and all pretense was gone. Her next words were spoken with a soft vulnerability. "Is he all right?"

Luke couldn't lie to her when she looked at him like that. He nodded. "Yes, he is."

"Is he ... Was it something bad? Is he going to get sick again?" The earnest expression on her face made her look like a young girl.

Luke sighed. "Leia, you really need to talk to Han about this." He folded his arms. Leia swallowed uncomfortably, and Luke realized that she was on the verge of tears. He tried not to notice.

She took a long sip of tea. When she spoke next, the diplomat was back. "So," she said, coolly, "Captain Solo has a serious, recurrent medical condition that can land him, unexpectedly, in the medcenter."

Luke touched her arm. "Leia, please don't do this."

"I have to know, Luke." She brushed his hand aside.

"At what cost?" Luke's eyes were pleading now. "He doesn't want the base to know. This is Han we're talking about. He doesn't want anyone to know."

The look she turned on him was determined. "Then I'll order him to have a complete physical. The medical droids will pick up on it."

Luke shook his head. "Leia, stop. You're being ridiculous."

"But how can I protect him if I don't ..." Leia broke off abruptly, apparently only then realizing that the words had left her mouth. She covered her face with one hand and flushed scarlet.

Luke reached for her other hand. "You love him, don't you?" He squeezed her hand in what he hoped was a reassuring way.

She sat quietly for a minute before she withdrew her hand and wiped away a tear. "Of course not."

Luke shook his head. He wanted to wrap both arms around her to console her, but he knew it wasn't the right thing to do. She needed to talk to Han.

He sighed. "Come on, I'll walk you to the _Falcon_."


	9. Epilogue - Part 2

This second epilogue chapter is for Book girl fan, who suggested that I needed to wrap things up between Han and Leia. My thanks to my first-born for beta-reading and for reminding me of where Han & Leia's romance was at this point in the story arc. I owe you one, son. :)

My thanks to all who have read, commented, and/or favorited. I really think I have concluded this story now!

* * *

Han turned from where he was inspecting the hull of the _Millennium Falcon._

"Hey, Luke," he said with a smile, "How did the meeting ..." His smile faltered as he caught sight of the princess standing next to his friend. "Hello, your worshipfulness," he drawled, using the saucy tone he saved just for her.

After Han nodded at Leia, she caught the brief, panicked glance he shot at Luke. If she hadn't been looking for it, she never would have noticed. Her determination to get to the bottom of their story increased.

Luke shrugged at Han apologetically. "I've got to get to a Rogue Squadron meeting. See you later, guys." He shook his head and, for a minute, Leia felt guilty for manipulating him. But only for a minute.

She pounced on Han's weakness. "Mon Mothma was satisfied with Luke's report. I was not," she said in a clipped tone. She eyed the Corellian, who had by now fully regained his composure. "Why did Luke take you to a medcenter?" she said, coughing slightly.

Han raised an eyebrow. "We needed medical supplies for the _Falcon_." He shrugged and crossed his arms. Quirking the other eyebrow, he gave her a smirk. "Worried about me, your highnessness?" He smiled down at her. "Sounds like you're the one who needs a medcenter."

She frowned and cleared her throat. "Most certainly not. I am merely trying to ascertain your fitness for service." She didn't look at him.

Leaning casually against his ship, Han replied, "Sweetheart, I've flown from one side of this galaxy to the other. I've logged in more hours than any other pilot here, except maybe Chewie." He gave her a knowing leer. "But it's nice to know how much you really care."

"I do not care about you in that way, Captain." Leia could feel her temper rising. The man was incorrigible.

"Yes, you do," he baited her. "You were worried about me." He smiled his smug little grin.

"If you won't tell me, then I'll be forced to discuss my concerns with Mon Mothma and General Rieekan."

Han's smile slipped. "Well," he drawled slowly. "Maybe it's time for Chewie and me to leave this snowball, anyway. I've got a debt to pay." He turned away from the Princess. "Too many damn regulations around here." Han palmed the ramp of his ship open.

Leia stared at the back of his dark vest and pants as he ascended, noting the slight slump of his shoulders. She ran after him. "Han, wait. Don't go like this," she pleaded. The brief run left her winded, and she coughed again.

He turned back to look at her, defenses down. "You okay?"

She nodded. He entered his ship and she followed. They wound up standing in the lounge, facing each other.

"It's just that when I saw the medcenter admission report, I was very concerned."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "What report?"

"Your intake report. Luke included it with his debrief."

Han swore, a strange mix of Corellian and Basic, and began to pace in circles. "Blast it. She promised she'd keep that out of their files. And Luke, why would he ..."

Leia took a step toward Han and laid a hand on his arm to still him. "I'm bluffing, Han. There's no report. "

He jerked away as if burned. "Kest, woman! What in the nine hells of Corellia is your problem?"

"I needed to know if you were okay. And you just confirmed that you were admitted to a medcenter, so I know that you're not."

"And you think I'd talk to you now? You're outta your mind!" He glared at her.

She returned his fire. "I had to know! It's for your own good!" Leia swallowed hard and continued in a softer tone. "Why were you admitted?"

"And if I don't tell you, you're gonna dig and poke on the medcenter staff until you get your answer?" He snorted. "You are a piece of work, your holier-than-thou-ness. I'm outta here anyway, so it doesn't really matter, does it? Your little Rebel friends are gonna be just fine." He sneered at her, his words nasty and full of venom.

Leia's heart warned her to stop the attack before she drove him away for good. Maybe it was time for the truth. "I'm not worried about my Rebel friends," she said softly, locking eyes with him. "You were right. I'm worried about you." She reached out and touched his arm again.

This time, he didn't pull away. "I'm fine," he acceded. He grasped her hand and gave it a squeeze.

She drew back from him, forcing him to look her in the eyes. "Are you well enough to continue your role as a pilot for the Alliance?"

Han nodded. "I've had migraines as long as I've been a pilot."

She paused as his words sank in. "You were treated for a headache?" she asked skeptically.

He stiffened. "A migraine ain't no ordinary headache, your highnessness. And the kid kind of overreacted when he realized we were out of the good painkiller and then I got dehydrated ... "

She drew close to him again. "I'm glad you're okay, Han."

"I told you I was fine," he grumbled. "But now you know why I don't want the base to know. Look how you reacted. Oh, it's Captain Solo with his little headaches. I can just hear the Rogues now." His tone was bitter.

Part of Han's words had caught Leia's attention. "You said the migraines started when you began flying. Is there something about flight that triggers them?" The involuntary shudder he gave told her that he hadn't meant to reveal that little detail. She stroked his arm. "Han, I'm not asking to hurt you. I just want to know how to help."

He looked at the floor. "Lots of short hops in and out of hyperspace in one day can sometimes mess me up," he admitted. "I like the longer jumps better."

She nodded. "Noted."

"And I hate being super hot or super cold."

Leia laughed lightly. "I guess Hoth wouldn't have been your first choice for a Rebel base?"

"Not even my hundredth." He smiled back her, then grew more serious. "This is just between us, right, Princess? You're not going to bring this up with Mothma and Rieekan, are you?"

She shook her head. "Our little secret," she said.

He gave her a lopsided grin. "I like the sound of that." He reached for her hand and she didn't pull away.

Luke chose that moment to return from his Rogues' meeting with Chewie in tow. The big Wookiee gave Luke a knowing glance as the couple jumped apart. Luke returned a nod. Reluctantly.

END


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